Routine
by Pleading Eyes
Summary: He is a man of his routines. He does not stray, he does not falter. His routine is as consistent as it is strict. Throw a wrench in the finely-tuned system, and he will surely fall apart. But is this necessarily a bad thing?


**Routine  
**

He wasn't an early riser by nature. That much Maya had figured out. She was a morning person and could be up by dawn with no problem. But Edgeworth, no, it had been trained into him. She knew this by how he needed an alarm clock, and by how he'd shuffle around like a zombie until he had his morning tea. But of course, Edgeworth refused to have his morning tea until he was properly dressed and ready. Everything had to be precise, disciplined, and meticulously planned with him.

Which is exactly why Maya took such delight in throwing a wrench in the finely tuned machine that was Edgeworth's routine.

It was funny how almost six years together felt like nothing with how slow they took things. It had taken a year at least for Edgeworth to even muster the courage to admit that, yes, he was attracted to her in a non-platonic way and would perhaps like to act upon said attraction granted that she reciprocated such feelings. He had a guest room, if she did not feel like returning to Kurain—which she didn't since she had abdicated the Master's seat and left it to Pearly; the villagers did not take well to shirked responsibilities, even if Maya felt it was the right decision—and she was welcome to stay whenever she pleased.

But even after they were living together, they'd spent months in the hand-holding stage before Maya got impatient and decided to just pounce on him with a kiss one morning. THAT had woken him up. It also had the bonus effect of turning his face the same shade as his suit and stealing away his usually impressive oratory skills. He had been absolutely adorable, hinging between embarrassed pleasure and horror towards her lack of propriety.

Since then, Maya had decided that such a reaction absolutely made her life and that she would find increasingly creative ways to sporadically disrupt his morning routine.

One of her favorites had been the time she decided that sleeping in a guest room down the hall after all this time together was unacceptable.

_She woke up early and crawled into his bed, careful not to wake him. A couple hours later, when his alarm sounded, Edgeworth rolled over to find her sleeping contentedly beside him. She woke to a yelp of surprise and a thud as he distanced himself so quickly that he fell off the edge of the bed. She looked over the side of the bed to see if he was okay, and the image of him lying there made her melt. He was awkwardly tangled in his sheets, blushing furiously, asking her if he'd had too much wine last night. Who knew Miles Edgeworth could be so CUTE?_

She'd slept in his bed every night since then. Though at first he had been reluctant, he had soon warmed up to the idea and she rarely woke up without him clinging to her. He was less prone to nightmares now too.

That had been a hard one to top though, and Maya had spent months trying to cook up a scheme that could compare. She had hit a wall, until a particularly heated goodnight kiss from him inspired her. No matter how much he might have denied, that kiss betrayed him! Mr. Proper was having dirty thoughts.

Oh goodie!

_She expected that he'd probably go into shock when he woke up to find her stripped down to her bra and panties. Just in case, she kept her phone nearby with 911 on speed dial. The one thing she hadn't counted on was a turnabout big enough to make Nick proud. When he woke, Maya struggling to contain her laughter, he didn't panic at all. Edgeworth took one look at her, smiled rakishly, and then rolled over her. Maya's eyes widened as big as saucers as he kissed her all over while fumbling with his own clothes. She hadn't expected them have sex yet, not with how slow things had been going. She hadn't even had the chance to ask herself if she was ready to._

_But damn if his caresses and kisses didn't feel amazing. He was always so shy, never instigated anything, and this new side of him was sending such a primal thrill through her. She didn't object when he managed to get them both unclothed and positioned himself over her. Maya just took a deep breath, reminding herself that this was the man she wanted, and then wrapped her arms around him in both anticipation and a touch of virginal fear._

_It was excruciating as he entered her, but she bit back her cry of pain, not wanting to startle him. She didn't know what had possessed him, but whatever it was she wasn't going to risk scaring it away. Not yet. So she turned her head away, biting her tongue to help her cope with the pain of his thrusts, eyes shut tight as she listened to the soft little sounds he made. It was worth it, she reasoned. She could endure the sting of torn flesh, of being stretched and filled, of unlubricated friction, in exchange for this moment. His gasping breaths and the fluttering kisses were so beautiful. She was happy to be holding him inside her, cradling him, giving him a harbor in which he could release all his repressed feelings of so many years._

_When he finished with a choked groan and a final few rapid thrusts, he gave her one more slow, languid kiss. Then the alarm sounded. Edgeworth blinked at the clock for a moment, looking completely puzzled as he turned off the alarm, before the gears in his head finally clicked into place._

_THEN he pulled out of her with a yelp and distanced himself so quickly he fell off the bed._

_Yep, he really wasn't a morning person. Maya didn't know whether it was embarrassing or hilarious that she had lost her virginity to sleepy zombie Edgeworth who still thought he was in a nighttime sexual-fantasy. Edgeworth, on the other hand, was decidedly mortified. It had been his first time too, it turned out, but he lacked the usual euphoria that came with such a conquest. His following lecture was as confused as he was, alternating between apologizing and berating her for her shenanigans._

_She didn't tell him how badly it had hurt, even as he fussed over the blood on the sheets. He had enough issues with guilt. No, this was supposed to be a positive, loving experience and she was going to make sure that his tendency to self-deprecate didn't ruin that. Instead, she rolled her eyes at him, pecked his cheek, and then called the prosecutor's office to inform them that Mr. Edgeworth was taking a sick day. They didn't believe her. Ah well, they'd find out when he didn't show up for work for once._

_The day had been incredibly awkward at first, but after discussing it with him, Maya found that she really didn't mind what had happened. So she let Edgeworth himm and haw before finally settling down beside him on the couch to watch some Steel Samurai re-runs. He quieted down finally and pulled her gently into his lap to hold._

_They sat in silence for a long while. She had been so comfortable and engrossed with the television that she had almost forgotten that morning's mishap. Until he spoke up out of the blue, "Did I hurt you?"_

_She was careful with her answer. So, physically it hadn't exactly been pleasant. But that was already fading away, and the truth was that emotionally she didn't feel hurt at all. A little confused, perhaps, the whole thing had been so quick and bizarre. But she really felt pretty good about it. He'd seemed relaxed, he'd let go, he'd kissed her openly without any sort of underlying anxiety. And now he had instigated their current embrace instead of unsurely waiting for her to do all the work._

_"Not really." She shifted in his lap to kiss his jaw. "But a little warning next time would be nice."_

_He nodded, that blush which had come to signify her victory blossoming over his cheeks._

_"Next time…" he echoed softly, tucking her hair behind her ear, an unspoken promise for better things to come lingering in the air. _

A new routine had come out of that. Edgeworth had decided that sex was for bedtime and was not to be incorporated into his morning routine. Maya thought it was completely absurd to try and schedule sex of all things, but that was Edgeworth. Though she didn't really have too many complaints about the arrangement. Since that first morning, he had been so careful to make sure she was prepared for him. There had been a few times in the beginning where his inexperience had caused him to come too quickly, before bringing her to completion. Naturally he'd been ashamed beyond words, but since then they'd learned that extending the foreplay could do wonders for his stamina and for helping her reach her peak.

So there went that adventure, which left Maya in quite a predicament. How was she supposed to outdo herself now? She'd tried using sex in other ways to throw off his morning routine, but had thus far been unsuccessful.

She'd tried jumping into the shower with him in the morning. He'd sputtered for a while, then picked her up, gently placed her outside, shutting and locking the door, insisting that showers were for hygienic purposes and not to be sullied.

He had a weird thing about her watching him change in the morning too. For some reason it was just taboo and made him unbelievably uncomfortable. That didn't make any sense to Maya; she'd already seen every inch of his body. Hell, she'd touched every inch of his body. But there was no arguing with Edgeworth's compulsions and neuroses.

It wasn't until months later, Edgeworth already fully dressed and awake that morning, that Maya was struck with a burst of inspiration.

He always inspected himself before he shaved. He'd turn his head every which way, checking every angle, as if calculating what he was about to do. This also seemed completely unnecessary to Maya. He did this every morning; surely he knew the contours of his own face!

But that wasn't what Maya had focused on this particular morning. No, this morning Maya had suddenly decided that Edgeworth looked really, really sexy with a little stubble.

"You don't have to shave every day, you know." Maya said, legs dangling over the side of the bed as she watched him in the bathroom.

"On the contrary, Maya." He said, checking under his chin. "The thing about maintaining proper hygiene is that it indeed does require constant maintenance."

"Oh yeah. A little stubble is just filthy! Why, you could cause some kind of plague!" She put her hand to her forehead over dramatically in a pseudo-swoon.

Long ago, Edgeworth might have snorted at such distasteful mockery. Nowadays he was long accustomed to Maya's silliness, and found it rather endearing. He chuckled, "It is also a matter of socially accepted appearance. Personal upkeep speaks volumes on a person. You wouldn't want an unkempt vagabond prosecuting in court." He turned, smirking at her. "A clean-cut gentleman shows dedication and respect for himself. In turn, he would be expected to show dedication and respect for his cases."

"But you don't even work today! It's Saturday! Miiiiiiiles…" Maya whined, jumping to her feet. "I think you should skip the shaving, just for today!"

He raised a brow at her. "Why in the world would I do that?"

"Because it's sexy." She smirked, bounding up and capturing his chin in her hands. "My rugged, manly Miles."

He blushed lightly at that, but did not lose his calm. He was slowly developing an immunity. She was both proud and disappointed.

"Honestly, Maya," he took her wrist, removing her from his face, but interlaced his fingers with hers after, holding her hand gently, "I can't fathom why you would want me looking like a ruffian."

"I always want you." She smiled slightly, squeezing his hand. "Besides, I don't think you're capable of looking like a ruffian. Even if we dressed you up in Viking's clothes, with the horned helmets and animal pelts, you'd still drink your tea with your pinky out."

"I do not!" Maya laughed at his outburst. His usually low and refined voice always went up in pitch when he got defensive. Not that he'd ever admit it.

"Haha, just joking. Chillax, will ya?" He did relax, rolling his eyes at her. She had a feeling he was putting on a more annoyed front than he was really feeling though, just out of principle.

She glanced over at the sink, where his electric razor waited patiently in its stand to be used. Well, if he wouldn't let her talk him out of a shave…

Maya snatched up his electric razor, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Can I shave you?"

Edgeworth scoffed, reaching for his razor. Maya hopped back, out of the bathroom and out of reach. "Come now, Maya. Enough games. The morning's quickly growing late."

"All the more reason why you should let me shave you. I have a better view of your whole face." Maya nodded sagely.

"Maya…" Edgeworth sighed, advancing, still reaching for the razor. Maya kept out of his reach.

"C'mon! Just this one time! Pleeeeeeeeeease? I think it would be really sweet!"

"Absolutely not, Maya!" He was starting to get testy. "Now hand that back, I don't have time to play right now."

"NEVER!" She turned and fled from their room.

Edgeworth let out a groan of frustration. She had just thrown off his whole morning routine! The day was officially shot!

"MAYA!" He stormed down the stairs. Maya saw his murderous expression and ducked into the kitchen.

"You're scary, Miles! I take back what I said about you not being able to pull off the ruffian look!" She said in an over-done act of fear, all while stifling her own laughter.

"Maya, come now. I already take weekends off work at your insistence. Can't I have my dignity?" He walked into the kitchen and opened a pantry. She smiled sheepishly from inside, struggling with a snack wrapper. How typical.

"Now that's a real rip-off!" Maya said, hiding both the razor and the snack package safely behind her back. "Sure Maya, I'll start taking weekends off work for you, but I'll do all the usual stuff I do anyway, so it really isn't much of a difference." Why did she always imitate him with a heavy British accent?

"Maya." He fixed her with a glare, thoroughly unamused. "My razor, if you would." He put out his hand for it, all business.

Maya sighed. "Okaaaaay…" She placed it in his hand and then wriggled passed him.

"Thank you. Now," Edgeworth said, turning to ask what she wanted for breakfast, but found her quickly receding back. Where was she going in such a hurry? No… she didn't… Edgeworth looked down at his hand and sure enough, he wasn't holding his razor; unless Maya had somehow transformed his razor into a Pop Tarts baggie. "MAYA!"

Maya cackled from the living room, proclaiming her victory. Edgeworth clenched his fist, crushing the innocent bag of Pop Tarts in his grip.

He followed her out to the living room and nearly lost his footing at the sight. Maya was standing on the couch, holding up the electric razor like a trophy.

"MAYA! GET DOWN FROM THERE! ACK! YOU'RE WEARING SHOES! THE UPHOLSTERY!"

"Bwahaha! Victory is mine, Evil Magistrate!" Maya pointed the razor at him dramatically, as if it were a scepter of power. "The Pink Princess always wins! For evil is OCD, and good is adorable!"

Oh that was the last straw!

Edgeworth clenched his teeth, forcing his grating words out through them, "Remember when we meet in hell, Pink Princess, that you asked for it!" And without any warning, Edgeworth threw decorum to the wind and charged, jumping up and tackling Maya onto the couch.

Maya squeaked in surprise, dropping the razor, which clattered and slid across the hardwood floor. For a moment neither of them moved. They both just lay there, stretched out across the couch, his arms around her waist, body covering hers, her limbs limp and sprawled out. No sound but that of their unsynchronized panting.

After a beat, Edgeworth pulled back enough to look Maya in the face, his arms still firmly positioned around her waist. She stared up at him, bewildered. His face was impassive, but his usually steely gray eyes were dark and smoky. Their labored breaths slowly began to line up, speeding up instead of evening. Their lips were so close, she could feel his breathing, all while her heart pounded savagely against his chest. She suddenly felt very hot and the uncontrollable urge to wrap her legs around his waist flared up. Still, she made no move, waiting to see what he would do.

Finally, Edgeworth dipped down, resting his forehead on hers and whispered against her lips between breaths. "My razor, if you please?"

Maya shoved him off, unconcerned with his yelp as he toppled to the floor.

Edgeworth sat up, rubbing the back of his head. "Was that the wrong answer?"

"Oh, you are going to be getting a full night's sleep tonight, _Edgeworth_." Maya humphed, crossing her arms over her chest.

_Ouch_. She never addressed him by his last name anymore unless she was quite cross with him.

Edgeworth sighed; he hated it when he screwed up with her. All this time, and he still had trouble gauging social situations. Resigned to the fact that he would have a very polite bedmate that night, Edgeworth busied himself with looking for where his electric razor had gotten off to.

He found it under the coffee table; one of its heads popped out of its socket, and the inner blade jutting out hazardously; broken beyond all use.

He would have to use a manual razor today, it was getting close to eleven am and they hadn't even had breakfast yet, his clothes and hair were a rumpled mess, there were clear footprints on his fine white leather couch, and to top it all off Maya was cross with him.

This morning couldn't get any worse.

Edgeworth stood stiffly, debating whether or not he should say something. Maya turned her back to him, facing the couch. That answered that question. He quietly retreated to the bathroom to find where in the hell he had stored his plain razor.

He found it in the medicine cabinet, thankfully clean and unused. He also found a container of shaving cream under the sink, still fresh. Somehow these small benefits felt so hollow compared to what he had lost this morning. Who knew how long she'd be upset with him now? He'd insulted her somehow; though he couldn't for the life of him figure out what in specific he had said or done. He could respect it if she wasn't in the mood for sex for a while, but seeing his usually bright and affectionate Maya turn cold towards him left Edgeworth a bit shaken. It was a nagging reminder that he was not the sort of person who got the happy ending. Sooner or later, any small joy in his life would be snatched away, like they always were. Sooner or later, she'd tire of dealing with his quirks and eccentricities. Hell, he was sick of them even! It wasn't that he didn't yearn to cast aside the shackles of his routine and spend the whole morning lying in bed, lazily holding her in his slack arms, tangling his hands in her soft, intriguing tresses. It was simply that he couldn't! Even now, even after everything he had fought for and struggled against, there were some places in his life where he would always be a prisoner to perfection. Anxieties, compulsions, appearances, routines; that was what made up his pathetic existence. He had as much power to stop it as he did to stop the sun from rising in the morning.

Edgeworth swallowed numbly, examining his face in the mirror, his usual shaving routine. Maya had commented on how ridiculous it was once. He'd snapped back that she had no right to call anyone else ridiculous, but that had only been a deflection. The truth was, he knew it was ridiculous. He had to do it anyway.

He jumped at the sight of Maya appearing in his mirror and whirled around to face her. She padded over, eyes downcast, and tentatively came to stand in front of him.

"Can I at least put the shaving cream on you?" She asked quietly, fiddling with her fingers contritely.

He couldn't understand why she would want to. Wasn't she angry with him? Though he supposed it was futile to try and understand Maya and picked up the shaving cream can. His expression softened as he gently placed the can in her hand, careful not to touch her. He would never want to touch her against her will. Every moment he had with her was as precious as it was stolen. They had only found their way to one another through mutual grief. Someday Wright would return from his self-imposed exile. As they neared the seventh year, Edgeworth couldn't help but feel the beginning of the end ominously marching towards them. Wright would come back into their lives, and she would return to him.

And then Miles Edgeworth would be alone again.

With nothing save his routines.

He sat down on the toilet lid to give her better reach. She was so tiny, who knew such a powerful spirit thrived inside? He was no fool, and he knew he had robbed her of something precious their first time together, no matter how many times she insisted otherwise. He, on the other hand, had gained so much.

Maya pressed the lid on the can, a small spurt of air and shaving cream spraying out defiantly on her. He smiled sadly, his chest constricting as he watched her rebuke the can as she wiped her face. She was so lovely…

"What're you looking at with that smug grin, buddy?" She glared daggers at him, shaking the can and trying again, this time managing to get a decent dollop of shaving cream on her palm.

He looked away, quiet and subdued. "Nothing." _Everything._

Without force, Maya slapped her hand on his cheek and began to spread the shaving cream over his chin. Her hands were so delicate, little, soft; everything his were not. They ran over his face in unpredictable patterns, her fingers dancing lightly on his skin, sending chills of pleasant unfamiliarity up his spine.

More than the sex itself, more than the physical pleasure, Edgeworth found himself craving the intimacy. That vulnerable feeling of laying bare for another person to see, no clothes or fineries to shield oneself, and yet feeling not threatened, but secure. He trusted Maya, and it panicked him sometimes to think about just how far he had dropped his guard for her. But the panic was always fleeting, replaced by the warmth of acceptance, of affection.

And it made his throat tighten to know that it was all temporary. This moment right now would someday be nothing but a distant memory, so faded and worn that he would doubt it had ever really happened at all. All a living dream he never wanted to wake from, but inevitably would. The morning always came, bringing with it the curse of his routines, with or without his consent.

"Done." She announced, capping the can and setting it aside. She looked over her work one more time and then turned to pluck the razor off the counter. She handed it to him, giving him one final look of regret. "I really coulda done it for you, ya know. I'm not completely useless." And then she turned to leave.

He lunged and captured her wrist out of pure instinct. He hated the sight of her walking away from him. Maya stopped in her tracks, turning back to him.

He said not a word, not really knowing what he was supposed to say, and just pressed the razor's handle into her hand.

Six years ago, Maya might have pestered him with questions, or bragged about getting her way. But now, the only thing she asked was, "Are you sure?" He nodded his assent. They both had grown up since then, hadn't they?

He closed his eyes, angling his head back. He could hear the water running, no doubt as Maya rinsed the razor in the sink. Maybe she really did know what she was doing.

Her strokes were strangely measured as far as Maya went. She was usually so incoherent in everything she did; she was being especially cautious for him. Despite the strong resistance he had put up, Edgeworth secretly basked in her quiet attentions. She was usually so erratic, her attention jumping from one thing to another with every moment. He liked having her so intently focused on him, though he would never ask it of her.

Her free hand moved to his head, steadying him. Her fingers just barely scratched at his scalp, a tranquil display of fondness that stabbed at his chest with the mere tenderness of it all. He clung to the sensation so desperately, wishing against all logic that he could store the feeling for later use; for a future where she no longer cared to so comfortably touch him, even in her anger.

So lost was he in the sensations that he was unaware as to how close Maya was to finishing, or that she had become over-confidant towards the end of her labors. It was a prickle of pain just above his jaw that brought him back to his sense.

His eyes snapped open at Maya's shriek. "OMIGOSH! Miles! I'm soooo sorry!" She grabbed a towel, shoving it under the sink and soaking it before bringing it to his face. He inhaled a towel-full of water in surprise.

"Ma-ya." He coughed, clearing his lungs. "Calm do-own."

"I'm sorry! You were right! I shouldn't have done it! I'm the worst! Ahhh, it's bleeding! Does it hurt? I'm so sorry!" She scurried around, spilling everything out of the medicine cabinet in her panic. Everything fell into the sink, where Maya dug through until she found what she was looking for.

"Maya…" He touched his cheek, pulling back his fingers to find only a trace of blood. It didn't even hurt. He didn't have to go into work today, what was the harm in such a tiny nick?

"I got it! Don't worry!" She uncapped the tube of antibacterial gel, inadvertently squeezing nearly half the contents onto her fingers, and then hurriedly rubbed the gunk all over the general vicinity of the cut. Edgeworth winced at her none-too-gentle strokes on his wound, but made not a sound. He didn't want to panic her further.

"Maya…"

"I'm so sorry, Miles!" She cried, tears of desperation welling in her dark, bottomless eyes. "I didn't mean to! I thought I was being careful! I'm such an idiot!"

Funny, here he thought he was the idiot. "Maya, please…"

"I won't do it again! It's not worth it anymore if you get hurt!"

Now this was strange. As often was the case when Maya got excited, he had no idea what she was going on about. "Maya, what in the world?"

She hugged herself. "It was selfish and childish of me to start this stupid game in the first place! But it won't happen again! You were right, you're entitled to your dignity! I'll never mess with your morning routine again!"

Edgeworth blinked, trying to piece together what bits of information he had managed to get out of her rant. Maya hung her head, sniffling quietly.

Actually, if he had heard her correctly, this explained a lot.

Well, if there was ever a time to risk all and be bold…

He tucked a finger under her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. Her eyes were puffy from restrained tears and her nose was beginning to take on the most adorable shade of pink. Even when she was being absurd, Maya Fey was charming. He might even venture to say she was most charming when she was being absurd.

"Maya… I think there's a miscommunication here."

She sniffled once, looking at him with pleadingly apologetic eyes; like a child having been caught misbehaving.

"I'm sorry. I won't mess with your morning routine anymore…" She mumbled.

"Ah, but Maya," he smiled at her warmly, "struggling as you sabotage me at every turn _is_ my morning routine."

She sniffled again, blinking as his words sunk in.

Then all of a sudden he had a bundle of Maya thrown into his arms, clinging to him, burying her face in his chest. He felt the tightness there loosen and then release.

He may have been a man condemned to his routines, but she was his unknown variable. It wasn't so daunting, being trapped walking the same rut again and again without the strength to climb out, as long as he had her there to dive into the trenches and yank him out by the lapels.

"I love you so much, Miles!"

He held fast to her, resting his lips on the crown of her head. Perhaps this was all temporary, perhaps someday she'd wander off and find another trench to bombard.

But until then, she was here. She was his.

"You too, Maya."

And his constant love for her was one routine he would die to keep.


End file.
